


Resignation

by novera_nope



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Erik Has Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, X-Men: Apocalypse Spoilers, X-Men: Days of Future Past References, X-Men: First Class References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novera_nope/pseuds/novera_nope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was ridiculous that after all he’d been through, Charles could still crush him with two simple words. Crush him, although those two words weren’t even directed at him. Crush him, <i>because</i> they weren’t directed at him. </p><p>Erik's thoughts after the battle in Cairo. </p><p>Resignation (chess term): to concede loss of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resignation

“You betray me?” Apocalypse roared. 

“I betrayed _them_ ,” Erik answered. I betrayed _him_ , he didn’t say. 

And then he did the only thing he could think of that would protect Charles: he slung two iron rafters into the ground before Apocalypse so that the entrance was blocked by a massive ‘X’. Knowing that Charles was safe, at least for now, he joined the others in their attack on Apocalypse until the eternal god was no more. 

***

When it was over, he couldn’t get inside fast enough. Immense relief flooded through him when he saw that Charles was still alive. _Alive_. After mama, after Nina and her mother, at least Charles was still alive. 

He longed to touch him, to feel his heart beating for himself, but there was a woman already fussing over him – Erik recognized her as the woman who’d fired the gun in Cuba. The woman who’d _hurt_ Charles, though he knew Charles disagreed on that. 

_She didn’t do this, Erik. You did._

“Where are you?” the woman asked Charles with worry in her voice – she was checking for brain damage, Erik supposed. 

“I’m in Cuba,” Charles croaked. 

Erik inhaled sharply. 

“…with _you_ ,” Charles added. And then he put his fingers on her temple and Erik had to look away, his heart thudding in his chest. 

It was ridiculous that after all he’d been through, Charles could still crush him with two simple words. Crush him, although those two words weren’t even directed at him. Crush him, _because_ they weren’t directed at him, his brain helpfully supplied. 

He had to get out of there. He couldn’t breathe. 

***

Friendship with Charles had come easily for Erik – or at least, as easily as anything _could_ come for Erik. 

From the moment Charles had pulled him out of the water and told him he was not alone, there had been something between them. Erik refused to define it at the time but it was there, undeniably, and it had grown and deepened over chess games and road trips, over shared meals, intense discussions and even fights. Much to the dismay of the mansion’s other inhabitants – Raven in particular – they were more often than not found in each other’s company. 

When Charles had finally kissed him – so careful, so gentle he’d been – Erik had been overwhelmed with a feeling of belonging that he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. He’d responded eagerly and when Charles had inadvertently projected a burst of pleasure into his mind, he’d been happier than he could remember being in a very long time. 

Their time together at the mansion had been intense and passionate. Erik had been incredibly attracted to Charles’ power and intellect, his humor and wit, and he’d felt wanted, even loved, in return. 

Of course everything had to go to hell. It always did, so Erik had been expecting it. It hadn’t hurt any less, though. 

_I want you by my side_ , Erik had said. At that point, he’d still believed they could have a future together, despite everything that had happened. _We’re brothers, you and I. We want the same thing._

And then Charles had looked up at him with those too-blue eyes and crushed all his hopes with a simple _I’m sorry, but we do not_. 

Anger had boiled up in him, the same kind of blinding rage that had, in the past, made him destroy everything in his surroundings. This time though, he’d forced himself to calm down. This time, he’d managed to maintain a straight face and do what he knew would hurt Charles the most: he’d taken Raven and he’d simply left. And only _then_ had he destroyed everything around him. 

***

Ten years. Ten years before Erik could actually see just how hurt Charles had been, both physically and mentally. Charles had become an utter mess, powerless, letting some apparently addictive substance control his life. He’d become _useless_. 

_Good_. It was only fair that Charles was hurting, too. 

And yet, when Charles had finally let his anger out and had grabbed him, hurling how Erik had _abandoned_ him, Erik wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him. To tell him how sorry he was, how everything would be all right. To kiss some sense into this man he once knew better than he knew himself. 

He didn’t, though. No one could hold a grudge like Erik. And so he was deliberately cruel, lashing out at Charles, hurting him all over again. Although it didn’t please him to see the bewilderment in Charles’ eyes, it was only _fair_. 

***

Somehow Charles had found the strength in himself to come back. He lost the ability to walk, yes, but he regained his powers – even more than he used to have –, his pride and his innate leadership. Erik respected him for that. 

And somehow, Charles must have had some respect left for him, too, for he’d allowed Erik to flee after the disaster with the sentinels. Or maybe it had been “for good old times’ sake”; he wasn’t quite sure Charles was above crap like that. 

He’d fled to Poland – far enough from Germany to be invisible, but close enough to it to feel at home. He’d managed to start a new life with Magda, who was nothing like Charles, but whom he’d loved honestly and intensely. And everything had blown up in his face, as usual. 

When all had gone to hell – _Is this who I am?_ – he’d briefly contemplated going back to the mansion. To Charles. But then Apocalypse had suddenly been there and the lure of power had won. 

***

It was only when he spoke with Charles again, in front of Apocalypse, that he’d realized why Charles had given him another chance at the stadium. It had had nothing to do with sentiment, no; Charles had still actually believed _there was good in him_. He still did. 

And maybe there was. Or maybe it was _him_ who was sentimental, when he turned against Apocalypse as he realized the god was actually going to kill Charles. 

_Not Charles. Please, not Charles._

He’d been relieved when he’d seen Charles was alive; however, the feeling had soon faded when he’d realized there wouldn’t be room for him in that life, not any more.

***

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Charles asked – still the gentleman, after all that had happened between them. 

“You’re psychic. You can convince me to do anything,” Erik answered in an attempt at humor. His voice broke, though, and he was sure Charles could see right through him even without using his powers. He shook his head. He couldn’t stay here, where everything was just a painful reminder of what he’d lost. 

“Goodbye, old friend,” Charles said softly. 

“Good luck, professor.” And Erik walked out of the mansion without looking back. 

He never saw the tears leaking from Charles’ eyes after the door had closed behind him. 

He never saw Raven approaching her brother with a look of compassion on her face. “Are you sure you made the right choice?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, Raven.” Charles wiped at his eyes and forced a smile. “But I think… it’s time for me to let go.” 

Raven nodded and left, correctly assuming that Charles wanted to be alone. 

***

When he was sure his eyes didn’t look red-rimmed any more, Charles went to his study, where Moira was waiting for him. She looked stunning. 

Her eyes lit up when she saw him entering. “You ready to go, then?”

“Yes,” Charles said. “Just a moment.” 

He wheeled himself towards the coffee table. His chess board was still on it, the pieces untouched for so many years – memories of their last abandoned game. Charles tipped over the white king and put the board in the only closet that wasn’t stuffed with books. 

Then he turned to Moira and smiled. “I’m ready.”


End file.
